Love is Love is Love
by White Mizerable
Summary: Love. For America and England, it's all that really matters. A collection of drabbles, mostly AUs, originally started for the Sweethearts Week on LiveJournal. Rating might go up. All USUK.
1. What I Like About You

Prom. The day every teenage girl- well, most teenage girls- looked forward to. A day of styling hair, painting nails, putting on makeup, choosing between earrings, and putting on that dress. Not any dress- the dress. The one parents spent hundreds of dollars on, that will only be worn once. The most important dress up until that particularly special wedding one. Whether it had a full princess skirt or a tapering mermaid, it was there to look gorgeous and make a statement. A statement of complete and utter beauty on the part of the young lady inside it, of course.

Once the dress was zipped up and the shoes slipped on, it was time to meet the dates. A good one would have brought a lovely corsage- that matched the girl's dress to a t, obviously- and perhaps even a matching flower to pin onto their tux. Either way, they would wander up to the doorbell, ring it nervously, and wait until the girl's father swung the door open and stared them down.

Except, in this case, Alice's father wasn't staring down at an anxious young man. He was looking at Amelia's beaming face. The young woman had her hair tied back into a stylishly messy ponytail, and nestled among the golden strands were little gemstone clips. Her bright red dress was formfitting and strapless, showing off her ample breasts, tapering in at her trim- not quite skinny, but very fit- waist, flouncing out at her hips, and stopping several inches above her knees.

Alice noticed all that very slowly, as she took in her date in from head to toe. Amelia… Amelia looked amazing. Alice suddenly felt very ridiculous in her slender emerald gown. It went all the way down past her knees, and barely showed off any cleavage! Not to mention her hair was up in a prim bun, with no decorations save for the small black butterfly on her barrette. She tried to muss her bangs as inconspicuously as possible. Her father sent her a questioning look.

"So, Mom's going to drive us there," Amelia chattered on, seemingly ignorant of Alice's problem. "Maddie's already waiting in the car." She grinned at Alice. "Are you ready to go?"

"I- I suppose so," Alice muttered, smoothing out a non-existent crease in her dress. After a quick goodbye to her father, and a promise to call later if she decided to go to any of the after-prom events, she found her hand wrapped up in Amelia's and her body being pulled towards the Jeep waiting at the sidewalk.

Amelia threw open the back door and hoisted herself inside, in the process giving Alice a very nice view of her inner thighs, and then gestured for her girlfriend to join her. Alice did so in a much more sedate fashion. Madeleine smiled at her from the front seat. Mrs. Jones- though she wasn't really a Mrs, because she wasn't married- asked cheerfully, "All set, girls?"

Amelia cheered, Madeleine piped out a yes, and Alice tried to prepare herself for what she was certain was going to be a very awkward night.

* * *

It was just as Alice had feared. The prom, hosted in one of the fanciest hotels in the city, was packed with girls and their dates- some men, mostly other women. That was to be expected from going to an all-girls school. Amelia dragged her through the crowd, stopping now and again to say hi to some of their friends. Though the whole ballroom was pulsing with excitement, Alice felt sicker with every step they took. She was so out of place. Her dress was wrong, her hair was wrong, she looked so stupid. Especially compared to Amelia, who was, in Alice's eyes at least, the most gorgeous girl there. Why would someone so beautiful settle for someone like Alice? It just didn't make sense.

Finally, they managed to find two seats at a table. Madeleine and her off-and-on girlfriend Fleur settled across from them, and then the final three seats were taken by the French girl's best friends, the narcissistic albino Gisa and airheaded Spanish Alejandra, and the latter's feisty partner Lorita. Alice found herself weighing the pros and cons of stabbing herself with the butter knife.

Dinner was awkward. There was no need to go into details, because Alice honestly couldn't remember most of it, what with how hard she was trying to ignore everyone. Once the dessert plates were taken away, she allowed herself to relax slightly. One step closer to the end of this torture.

Of course, she'd forgotten all about the dancing. Amelia actually asked her if she wanted to dance, in such a surprisingly sweet and ladylike way that Alice said yes before she realized what she was doing. It was only after she'd been led out into the middle of the bouncing, grinding mess of her classmates that she remembered. She couldn't dance like this. Sure, she was exceptional at the waltz, and knew a bit of ballet, and could even do the tango relatively well, but shaking her hips and rolling her shoulders like that? Not in public, no. Nevertheless, she did her best to dance a little with her date, because Amelia looked like she was having fun. She managed to last for almost a full hour.

"I have to go to the restroom," she muttered, not meeting Amelia's eyes. Without waiting for a response, she pushed her way out of the mass of bodies and hurried over to their now-empty table. She barely stopped to grab her purse before rushing out of the ballroom and towards the nearest bathroom. By some stroke of luck, it was empty, so she hurried into the farthest stall and slammed the door shut.

Stupid prom. Stupid Fleur and Gisa and Alejandra. Stupid Amelia. Alice scowled down at her purse, taking in her tense white knuckles where she clutched at it. Even as she felt her grip tighten, though, her whole body seemed to slump downwards, and before she knew it she was sliding down to sit on the floor. The bathroom was fancy and rather clean, luckily, but at that point she didn't even notice it. She just sat there, staring at her hands.

It wasn't Amelia's fault, she knew. It was hers, Alice's- she should have said no when Amelia asked her to go, even if they were dating. Then Amelia would have been able to go to the prom and have fun and dance with other people, with people better than Alice, and maybe even meet that right person who would sweep her away on a white horse and carry her off into the sunset. Though that was Alice's personal fantasy, not really Amelia's, but that was not important. What mattered was that Amelia was here with the wrong person, that Amelia had settled for someone not worth her time.

A tear slid down and plopped onto her hand. Alice sniffled. Of course, as if this night couldn't get any worse, she had to go and start crying. Now her carefully applied makeup would run all over the place. She fumbled around in her purse for the tissues she had stuffed inside, finally finding one and pulling it out to dab at her face. She wondered faintly how long she had been sitting there in the bathroom, and how much fun Amelia must have been having out there, dancing away. That girl- that beautiful, ridiculous girl- had no reason to come looking for her, she knew. Not when there were so many other people she could spend her time with. But Alice couldn't help the small hope in her heart that maybe, maybe Amelia was worried, was looking for her, wanted to spend time with her.

The bathroom door opened. Alice's breath caught in her throat- was it-?

"Alice?" a quiet voice called out, and Alice felt her hope deflate like a balloon. It wasn't Amelia. It was Madeleine. "Alice, are you in here?"

"Yes," she replied, as primly as possible. "I- I simply needed to freshen up." She scrubbed furiously at her eyes, hoping she didn't look as horrible as she felt.

From the look on Maddie's face when she opened the door, she most certainly did. "Oh, Alice," she whispered. "You were crying."

"No, I-" But there was no use lying, not when Maddie could see all the proof she needed. Alice bowed her head slightly. "It doesn't matter."

She heard Maddie sigh, and then two hands settled on her shoulders. "Amelia's worried sick about you, you know," the girl said gently. "When you ran away like that, she tried to follow you, but couldn't find you anywhere. We've been searching for you for over half an hour."

"What?" Alice stared at her, wide-eyed and disbelieving. Amelia had followed her? She had actually been looking for her? She'd been- She'd been worried?

Maddie opened her mouth to speak again, but at that moment the bathroom door banged open again to reveal a frazzled-looking Amelia. "Maddie, I can't find-" And her eyes settled on Alice.

The girl in question met those blue eyes almost fearfully. She knew she looked a mess. Her mascara was probably smudged around her eyes, and her lipstick was partially gone, and her hair was coming out of its bun in a way that didn't look nearly as good as Amelia's did.

"Alice?" Amelia said quietly, moving over to touch her girlfriend's cheek. "Alice, look at me, please. What's wrong?"

"N- nothing," Alice sniffled, cursing herself as she felt more tears begin to gather in her eyes. She faintly heard the door click shut, and supposed that Madeleine had taken her leave, but all she could focus on was the warmth of Amelia's fingers. "I'm b-being foolish, that's all."

She felt Amelia freeze as the first teardrop rolled down to her hand, and then Alice was swept into a strong embrace, her nose pressed into Amelia's collarbone. "Please don't cry," Amelia murmured. "You know I hate it when you cry."

Instead of calming her down, the words seemed to release the floodgates. Alice wrapped her arms around her girlfriend's waist and sobbed into her shoulder. She felt Amelia's fingers rub gently over her back, up and down her spine, and once again she wondered how she had managed to get such a wonderful partner. "Why?" she whispered.

Amelia hummed lightly. "Why what?"

"Why me?" The words were muffled by Amelia's skin, but Alice couldn't bring herself to pull away. "Why, out of all those people out there, did you choose me? W-why didn't you go with someone else?"

There was silence for a moment. "So that's what this is about?" Alice nodded into her shoulder. "Oh, Alice, baby, you shouldn't be asking that! Why would I want to go to prom with anyone else? Why would I date someone else?" Amelia pushed Alice away, gently but firmly, and stared into her eyes. "You're the only girl out there that I wanted to ask."

Alice's chest felt tight with emotion- happiness, fear, others that she couldn't name. "Why?" she asked again.

"Why you?" Amelia's eyes widened in shock. "I- I-"

"See?" Alice hissed, pulling herself away from Amelia's strong hands. "You don't even have an answer. I don't want you to date me out of pity, Amelia. You should go back out there and find someone else to dance with. I'm sure Inga would love-"

"Stop it!"

Alice did, though she refused to meet Amelia's eyes, even when calloused fingers carefully lifted her chin. She heard the taller girl sigh.

"I do have an answer. I just- You caught me off guard there, Alice. I can't believe you don't know why I'm with you. I thought it was obvious."

"Well, it's not," Alice muttered.

Amelia chuckled. "I guess not for you, at least." She paused. "You know I'm not… that great with words, so I can't go all poetic like you can. I'm going to have to show you instead."

"Show me what?"

"Why I asked you to go out with me and to be my date to the prom. Ready?" When Alice didn't reply, Amelia rolled her eyes. "Okay, I'm going to pretend that was a yes. So here goes.

"I like you. A lot." Amelia reached out to grab Alice's hands, lifting them up to her lips to press a quick kiss on each palm. "I like your hands, because they're soft and small and fit inside mine." Her lips slid down to Alice's wrist. "I like these, too."

"My wrists?" Alice asked, her mouth threatening to quirk up into a smile.

"Yeah, your wrists." Amelia grinned at her, before lifting Alice's arm and kissing the crease of her elbow. "And I like this."

Alice covered her mouth with her free hand to block the giggle that nearly made it out. Of course Amelia would go for one of her ticklish spots!

"I like these-" a kiss to her collarbones- "and this-" one to her throat- "and these!" Before Alice could react, Amelia cupped both her breasts and squeezed. Alice squealed with laughter, slapping at her hands, and Amelia's grin widened. She leaned in to kiss Alice's chin. "I like this, too. And these." She kissed the faint dimples in each cheek, the ones only a few people ever saw during these rare, joyful smiles. "I like these-" a longer kiss to her thin lips- "and I like this-" one for her nose. Amelia paused for a second, rubbing her thumbs across Alice's cheekbones.

"What?" Alice blinked at her, confused.

"Nothing. I'm just trying to figure out how to kiss your eyes. Because I love your eyes."

Alice flushed bright red. Amelia hadn't said 'like' that time- she'd said 'love.' "I-"

"Shh, let me finish." Amelia leaned down to kiss her eyebrows. "I like these, a lot. They're so… you." She rested her forehead against Alice's, staring deep into her eyes. "Since I can't kiss your eyes, I'll just tell you instead. I love how green they are, and how you have such pretty eyelashes, and I love how they always look so pretty even when you're wearing your glasses." She smiled. "See? I like you, I really do."

"Just the way I look?" Alice couldn't resist asking. Her heart was full to bursting, and she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around Amelia and kiss her until they couldn't breathe.

Amelia laughed. "Of course not! I like how smart you are, and all the poetry you write. Your voice is amazing. And you always know when I'm feeling down. And you come to all my ball games, even when you're busy." Her smile softened, and she pressed another quick kiss to Alice's lips. "I like you because you're moody, and because you can't cook, and because you're so shy, and because you hate Fleur's guts."

Alice raised her eyebrows. "You like those things?"

"Yeah, because they're a part of you." Amelia kissed her again. "I like all of you. You're perfect."

"All of me?" Alice whispered. What had she done to deserve such a wonderful girl in her life?

"All of you," Amelia repeated firmly. She wound her arms loosely around Alice's waist, their foreheads still touching. "When I went to pick you up today, and I saw you all dressed up like this, I was so amazed."

Alice's cheeks burned, and she knew her whole face was bright red. "I- I know, I'm not dressed properly for an American prom."

"What?" Amelia drew back to stare at her, surprised. "That's not true! You look beautiful, Alice." She nuzzled her nose against her girlfriend's. "Like I was saying, when I saw you, I was so amazed that I had managed to ask such a gorgeous girl to the prom. Compared to you, I looked like crap."

"No, not all," Alice replied, reaching up to loop her arms around Amelia's neck. "Next to someone as lovely as you, I may as well be wearing a paper bag for a dress."

"Even if you wore a paper bag for a dress, you'd still be prettier than me," Amelia retorted.

Alice rolled her eyes. "Silly girl."

They were both grinning now, breathing in tandem, their lips barely centimeters apart. And then that tiny gap was closed, and Alice did exactly what she had been waiting to do, and snogged Amelia senseless.

* * *

A/N- And there you have it. Definite proof that I am indeed a sappy romantic.

Anyway, this was written for the first day of the USUK Sweethearts Week. I wrote it really quickly in between classes, so it's certainly not my best work, but I still hope you enjoy it!

Oh and in case you can't tell, Amelia is America, Alice is England, Madeleine is Canada, Fleur is France, Gisa is Prussia, Alejandra is Spain, Lorita is Romano, and Inga is Russia. I have this fixation on the fact that the Nyotalia versions of the countries should have a name with the same first letter as their male counterparts. Anything else has a tendency to confuse me.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Blind Dates and Paperclips

Arthur rattled at the bars for what felt like the millionth time in hours, though it was really closer to the fifth in ten minutes. "Hey!" he yelled up the stairs, towards the Soviet officers he knew were standing guard by the prison door. "What right do you have to imprison an innocent man? I have not done anything wrong!" One of the guards shouted something back in Russian, which Arthur didn't know a word of, but judging by the tone, it was not anything he particularly wanted translated. He scowled in their general direction before turning his glare towards the other man in the cell. "Well, what are we supposed to do now?"

Alfred Jones, or Al, as he liked to be called, wasn't nearly as worried as Arthur. In fact, he was irritatingly calm, as if this was an everyday occurrence for him- which, now that Arthur actually knew who the man was, was highly likely. Al was currently standing at the far corner of the cell, arms crossed, staring fixedly at the stone wall. He hummed lightly to let Arthur know he'd heard the question, but wasn't making any attempt to answer it.

Groaning, Arthur ran his hands through his hair. Of course this would have happened. He should never have agreed to go on a blind date set up by Francis, of all people. Especially not after he'd heard his date would be an American tourist. He cast a glance at the American in question, his scowl deepening. And of course the obnoxious git would be incredibly attractive, just to make matters worse. Incredibly attractive American secret agents, Soviet spies, and dank, dark, hidden prisons- obviously fate did not want him dating. He made a mental note never to try again.

"Hey, Artie." Al's voice cut through his thoughts, and he gritted his teeth at the nickname. "Got anything useful in your pockets?"

Arthur gaped at him. "What do you expect, you idiot? They did a full-body search on us!" Fuming, he shoved his hands into his pants pockets. "So what do I have left, then? Let's see. Oh, look, a piece of thread! And a bit of lint! And what's this? Why, it's a paperclip!"

At that, Al whirled around and practically bounded over to his side. "A paperclip? Perfect!" He snatched it out of Arthur's hands, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth as he began to twist it into some kind of complicated shape. Arthur wasn't entirely sure what to say to someone who was so obviously insane, so he settled on standing there staring as Al dug into his own pocket. Out came a piece of chewing gum, a tiny bit of wire, a hair clip, a tissue, and one solitary match.

"What are you doing?" Arthur demanded once his voice decided to return. The American didn't reply, instead crouching down on the floor, shielding his odd pile of junk from Arthur's curious stare. Arthur's eyebrows furrowed. "I believe I have a right to know what you're doing. It's all your fault I'm in this mess to begin with!"

"Give me a second," Al muttered distractedly. Something clicked, something flared, and then he was on his feet, throwing his strange contraption at the wall. Before Arthur could get a good look at it, Al tackled him onto the ground.

The wall promptly exploded.

Arthur stared at the hole where solid rock had been only seconds before, his mouth wide open. He didn't even register the sound of voices shouting in Russian, or Al's hands pulling him to his feet, or even the fact that they were running through the rubble. It wasn't until he felt his feet actually leaving solid ground as he was hoisted into Al's arms that he managed to shriek, "What the bloody fucking hell was that?"

Al laughed, his cheeks flushed with energy, blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses. He looked even more maddeningly attractive than usual. "That? That was nothing! You should see what I can do when I have better materials."

"Fuck," said Arthur. He barely reacted as he was literally carried across the grounds of a secret Soviet base by an almost-stranger, as bullets flew all around them, as he was thrown into some kind of truck by that same stranger, as the scenery whizzed by during some high-speed chase straight out of a movie. All he could focus on was the man driving.

Catching his stare, Al grinned at him and swerved wildly around the car in front of them. "Isn't this fun?"

Arthur didn't say a word, but his lips twitched up into a wavering grin, because yes. Yes it was. He had been attacked and captured by Russian spies, he was driving way over the speed limit with some crazy American secret agent who could make an explosive out of paper clips and tissues, and he had no idea what was going to happen next, and it all added up to possibly the best day in his entire life. He laughed, loud and clear, and Al joined in.

His only regret was that he would have to thank Francis later, for setting up the most amazing blind date in history.

* * *

A/N- Another quick oneshot for Sweethearts Week.

MacGyver. I love MacGyver. It is easily one of my favorite TV shows ever, even though it's before my time. I mean, what can go wrong with cheesy eighties dialogue, Richard Dean Anderson, and the ability to make anything at all out of whatever happens to be close by? And Alfred just makes the perfect MacGyver- smart, adventurous, and always getting the girl in the end.

For anyone who doesn't know MacGyver- in which case I have to say, you're missing out- here's a link to the opening. I think it explains it pretty well.

www. youtube. com/watch? v=HaQvBbzslJE (Take out the spaces.)


	3. The Return of the King

The Return of the King

Even though he had known it was coming, even though everything up to this point was directly leading to this moment, Alfred's stomach churned with nerves. He stood there in the long marble hall, staring up at the throne- his throne. The throne that had not been touched in ages, that had once belonged to his ancestors, that had been lost due to their greed and carelessness. Alfred's hands clenched at his sides. He was their heir. The blood that had made them turn to darkness also coursed through his body. Thanks to Feliciano and his companions, he could not make the same mistake as his forefathers, but that did not mean he was impervious to equally dangerous mistakes.

He tried to force his thoughts away and allowed his mind to wander, far along the roads he had traveled to reach this hall, back to the ancient and beautiful haven of Rivendell. His thoughts lingered on one face, one body, with wide green eyes and tousled blonde hair. He could feel his lips quirking up into a smile at the memory of the time they had spent together- the long months of arguments, first hostile, then friendly, and finally loving. Their confession had been informal and abrupt, and had lead into the most exhausting, irritating, and wonderful relationship either of them had ever experienced.

Alfred reached into the neck of his ceremonial breastplate, pulling out the pendant he had been given so long ago. It glimmered in the light. His smile flickered briefly, before fading as he slid the necklace back into its place, as close to his heart as it could rest. The Evenstar was the only link he now had to those memories- Arthur was gone. He coughed lightly, willing his eyes not to water.

"Alfred?" The kind voice drew him from his thoughts, and he turned to see Toris standing at the other end of the hall, leaning on his staff. The wizard smiled. "Are you ready?"

"I…" Alfred cast one more look up at the throne. It would be a lonely seat in the many years to come. He let his eyes slip shut for a brief moment, allowing the memories of Arthur to fill his mind one more time, and then turned back to Toris. "I am."

* * *

The ceremony blurred in Alfred's mind. Handfuls of flower petals fluttered through his vision. He heard Toris say something, and then the solid weight of the crown- the crown of Gondor, for he was now their king- settled onto his head. He stood, eyes wide but barely seeing, and looked out at his people. There were so many of them. From this point forward, they would all depend on him. He heard himself speaking, or maybe it was singing, but the exact words eluded him. And then his feet were moving him down the few stairs, through the petals, into the aisle that his people had gathered around to see him take up the crown.

Alfred recognized some of them. Vash stood off to the side, his hands resting on the head of his axe. He nodded, so slightly that it could have been a trick of the eye, and smiled in his lopsided way. Beside him, Francis smiled a little more widely and inclined his head, his carefully plaited hair brushing over the tips of his pointed ears. Alfred felt his lips move, and hoped that they had formed a smile in return.

Further along his path waited Matthew and Yekaterina, arm in arm. They were both fully healed of the wounds from their personal battles against the Dark Lord, and Alfred knew he smiled this time as he recalled how he had helped them along their way. He clasped hands with Matthew, nodded in respect to Yekaterina and the astounding victory she had obtained, and continued along. They had no real need of his approval or aid- he may have saved them from death, but it was the two of them who had truly healed one another.

Alfred could faintly see the heads of Feliciano and the other Halflings down at the other end of the aisle, but as he moved towards them, someone stepped out in front of him. He stared silently at Alaric, unsure what to make of the Elf's sudden appearance. Before he could ask anything, though, Alaric gave him what would have been a fond smile had it been from anyone else, nodded his head, and stepped aside.

Now there stood before Alfred a banner, emblazoned with the blossoming White Tree. Below it he could see the feet and legs of the bearer, clothed in elvish boots and tunic, but their face was hidden. Alfred gently pushed the banner aside. It was indeed an Elf, with tousled blonde hair, over which rested a jeweled circlet. Alfred's breath caught in his throat as two wide green eyes stared back at him. For a moment they stood in silence, Arthur's fingers wrapped tightly around the banner pole, Alfred's hands twitching by his sides. Someone took the banner from Arthur, but Alfred was not watching where it had gone. He swallowed heavily, reaching up to touch the Elf's face, to run his thumbs across those pale cheeks. Arthur smiled at him, lips trembling.

One of them moved forward, or perhaps they both did, because their mouths met in the middle, and Arthur's hands clenched in Alfred's hair and cloak, and Alfred swept Arthur off his feet and crushed him to his chest. The cheers of the crowd around them might have been deafening, but neither of them noticed. In that moment, all of Middle-Earth vanished save for the two of them. And when they finally pulled apart, Arthur was crying and smiling, and Alfred knew immediately that it was going to be all right. With Arthur by his side, he could become the just and fair king that everyone expected. Gondor would prosper under their rule. He leaned down to rest his forehead against the Elf's, returned that joyful smile, and kissed him again.

* * *

A/N- A bit of a crossover with Lord of the Rings, if you couldn't tell. There are parts of it that I like, and parts of it that I don't, but overall, I'm somewhat content with the way it turned out.

Obviously I changed things up here and there, as there are many differences between this and the scene from the film version that this was referenced from. Also, in case anyone didn't understand who was supposed to be who, it goes like this- Alfred is Aragorn, Arthur is Arwen, Feliciano is Frodo (the other three hobbits are Ludwig, Lovino, and Kiku), Vash is Gimli, Francis is Legolas, Toris is Gandalf, Matthew is Faramir, Yekaterina (Ukraine) is Eowyn, and Alaric (Germania) is Elrond.

Oh, and I definitely envision Alfred as having that stubbly but nice beard that Aragorn sports. Just because.


End file.
